


Of candlelit dinners

by adelaide_rain



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames takes Arthur out on a candlelit dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of candlelit dinners

Candlelit dinners do not constitute romance to Arthur.

Work, not romance, is what brings him and Eames to the cosy bistro in the heart of Montmartre, crowded into a tiny booth. It’s too warm and the candlelight flickers a little too close to the napkins that wilt in their wine glasses. Tiny droplets of wax have spilled over the tablecloth and Arthur picks absently at them.

They are here for Eames’s work, observing their mark and his date at a nearby table. The date is the woman Eames will be forging and he is trying to see as much of her as he can without arousing suspicion. Arthur agreed to come along to make it less conspicuous. Besides, he’s heard that this place does an excellent Bordeaux which he’d like to try when the laconic wait staff finally deign to serve them.

Arthur glances at the mark, whose date is running her fingers up his arm; and then Eames, almost unconsciously, does the same to Arthur. The movement makes Arthur smile – he’s used to this by now, used to Eames practising the tiny quirks that perfect his forges.

When Eames’s fingers curve over Arthur’s, making a cage to trap them, Arthur looks up to see their mark’s date doing the same thing.

By the time their order has been placed, mark and date have both left and there’s nothing to do with the rest of the evening but relax and enjoy themselves.

The Bordeaux relaxes them, puts both of them in a playful mood. They talk but the words wash over Arthur; he’s paying more attention to Eames’s smiles, his glances, the way he strokes every inch of Arthur’s hand and wrist. The touches build Arthur’s want slowly, and they take their time with the meal. They want to get back to the hotel room and do wonderful things to each other, yes, but there’s no rush. There’s so much more to their relationship than sex. This is sex, listening to Eames’s deep, smooth voice, having his fingertips caress Arthur’s skin in a promise of what will come later.

Arthur smiles at Eames, feeling need and love twist together in his chest. It’s fierce, it’s painful, and by the time dessert is served - tiny petit fours that they feed one another - it is almost unendurable.

They’ll leave soon and get a taxi back to their hotel, strip quickly and spend hours naked and entangled in each other.

A candlelit dinner is not Arthur’s idea of romance. Because it doesn’t matter what they’re doing - if they’re together, it’s always romantic.


End file.
